Footcan

Jimmy, a tall, gangly schoolboy drained his can of fizzy orange and then dropped the can onto his oversized foot, punting it in the general direction of a playground bin.

“Hey lads, look at this – it’s going in!”

For a moment it seemed as if this act of goal-scoring potential had demonstrated monumental skill and accuracy, but the hopes of the future would-be England captain were quickly replaced by reality, as the can missed its intended target and loudly ricocheted off the rim of the bin, and clattered to the ground.

Jimmy’s two friends sniggered. “Yeah Jim – great shot!”

“Out the way, Beckahm – Spader is coming through!”

“Shove off ya gits! It was going in until the wind took it!”

“Only wind round here is all that fart gas coming out of your mouth, mate!”

Jimmy and his friends continued their verbal jousting as they strolled across the school playground.

It was a warm day and break-time seemed ruthlessly short to everyone. As the boys walked on and now began to argue, the discarded can began a journey of its own.

Another boy, less litter conscious than Jim (and his enthusiastic, yet feeble attempt to throw the can away,) saw the can lying near the bin and with a quick run-up, put shoe to metal and launched the now dented container off from the bin, back out into the centre of the playground.

While the can was en route, Brian, a young, playful lad saw the airborne can coming and drifted from his friends to intercept it. A mountain of school bags piled off to his side became the target and in the young boy’s mind, the goal, as with a perfectly timed and well aimed kick, he volleyed the can from his small foot directly into the bags. With almost no sound at all in the noisy playground, the drink can bounced off of the pile and lay on a bag at the edge of the heap.

Arms raised, fists clenched and a cry of victory echoed across the playground from the young goal-scorer. But victory came with a price. The owner of the bag the can now layupon, Jake, lumbered over to his sack of school work. A large lad in the upper year of the school, with a shaven head that looked a bit like a furry football, he stared down at the little orange coloured stain now on his white sports bag. Flicking the can from his precious new bag, Jake inspected the damage with simmering anger. The stain,caused by the last miniscule drops that had been left in the can, was slowly increasing its diameter across the thin fabric of the bag. As Jake watched this his eyes began to mirror the affect and increased their own size, until bulging out of his skull, one of them began to twitch. Looking up now in an enraged fury, Jake saw young Brian, arms raised, fists clenched and shouting his cry of victory just as the little lad looked back. A brief moment of eye contact followed by a terrifying moment of realisation and understanding and Brian was off, making the most of his head start. Jake, like an old steam train, started chugging off slowly after the younger boy, but soon picked up speed in his pursuit, becoming like an unstoppable inner-city express.

“Watch it, you little loser!” warned Jim’s friend Andy as Brian shot past.

Andy, Jim and their pal Steven all stepped back a moment later to allow the boulder-like form of Jake to roll through.

“Wonder what’s going on with those two…” said Jim idly.

“Who cares,” Andy answered, “I wanna know what we’re gonna do!”

A conundrum for the three bored boys that would soon be answered.

Back at the mound of bags, several from the pile had been separated and moved a short distance away to form goal posts. The can had been reborn into a new life as a cylindrical, metal football and was being kicked about by the kids Jake had been hanging around with. At first things had started almost randomly but then half-hearted kicks turned from pointless blows, into strategies for scoring in-between the newly formed goal posts. No one had planned the game, but the addiction of the English national sport proved contagious to everyone the can found its way to. In this particular case, the game soon progressed to a fever pitch as no one was able to score past Billy – the school football team’s goalie – who had taken up his natural position between the bags or goal posts as they now were.

Billy Brown, an athletic boy and favourite amongst the other children had well respected skills with a real ball that were proving to be equally effective against a tin can. Billy’s three favourite friends, Clive, Owen and Gavin were also on the school football team and were doing a magnificent job of defending the goal. The skill of the four school players divided them from the other kids and as more and more people tried to score, the teams became well overbalanced in favour of the attackers. It seemed all challengers were welcome and all attacks successfully defended.

“Hey, what’s going on over there?” Jim asked,nodding at the uneven teams.

“Dunno. Let’s go and have a look,” replied Steven as he started towards the impromptu game Jim’s can had created.

Standing just outside the boundaries of the game, the three stood and watched the attackers lack of progress.

Steven stood with his hands in his pockets and observed “Looks like everyone against The Defenders of the Earth – again.”

“Why aren’t they playing with a proper ball?” Jim enquired.

“How should I know? Looks like that can’s more fun today,” replied Andy, who folded his arms and stated,“They’ll never score like that. What that lot need is a plan.”

Jimmy chuckled, “And some players with some skill!”

It was a barely hidden suggestion that the other two quickly picked up on, as without further words Jimmy, Andy and Steven jogged forwards into the game. Moments later Steven had the can under his foot and with a quick flick sent it to Jimmy. Not the best player in the school, but certainly good enough to be on the team, Jimmy knew how to use his height to his advantage. His long legs allowed him a greater stride and he put that to use as he ran in a large semi circle from one goal bag to the other, allowing the rest of the kids to hinder the defenders and give him a clear shot at the goal. A quick second to compose himself and Jimmy’s foot stretched out behind him. Looking down at the can, there was suddenly a blur of motion in front of him and as Jimmy kicked, Owen the defender appeared and held out his own foot. Jim felt like he’d rammed his foot into an anvil as the can crumpled around his shoe. Immediately Jim began hopping around clutching at his aching ankle and no doubt bruised toes. They felt as though they could even be broken! The hopping turned into a delicate dance of agonised steps and the steps transformed into a feeble hobbling, gingerly moving on his injured foot, until Jimmy had made his way half way across the width of the playground.

A circle of people gathered around Jimmy and in his pain it took him a moment to notice and work out why. The can was now stuck to his shoe, wrapped around his toes!

“Come on Jim!” someone called and at once Jimmy was inspired.

His pain was forgotten as with a twinkle in his eye and a grin upon his face, Jimmy leapt forward with the can attached to his foot and steamed at the goal.

“Stop him!” cried Clive.

“How? There’s nothing we can do short of kicking him!” Owen shouted back.

Jimmy’s moment of glory had come and feeling unstoppable, the steady ‘thud, clomp, thud, clomp’ of his running picked up in pace to become a rapid ‘thud-clomp-thud-clomp’. He sprinted as fast as he could with his encumbered foot and as he ran, people from his own team began to swap sides and try to stop his spontaneous, if a little immoral tactic. But Jim’s long strides kept them at bay as he saw himself in his mind’s eye running between the two bags that marked the goal posts and scoring against not only the school team’s goalie, but the school team’s defenders as well!

Jimmy and Billy glared into each other’s eyes as he charged forwards and Jim barely registered the streak of movement behind the goal that was young Brian.

Billy darted forwards to meet the attack, but Jim knew nothing could stop him now!

However, Fate had something different in mind to the success Jim had planned. The metal on his Jimmy’s foot did not carry the traction of his rubber soled shoe, and so his final long strides caused him to slide off balance and skid until he was almost in the splits.

There was a scrapping of metal on concrete and to a chorus of “oooohs,” from the spectators, a messy jumble of arms and legs crashed in a horrid landing that was felt by every onlooker in the playground, spectator and player alike.

But at the moment of the skid, the pressure on the can had forced it free of Jim’s shoe and with the extra power boost of his skid, had shot it forwards at an angle Billy was not prepared for. All Billy could do was watch as the can-like bullet flew past him, and struck Jake in the side of his huge chin. Everyone’s heads turned from Jimmy, who now lay curled up in a ball, to Jake who stood swaying on the spot, with a vacant look in his eyes, before tumbling down to land on a goal post.

Smug looks were passed about between some of the boys as they registered that the seemingly indestructible Jake had a weakness no one had ever considered before. Knowing Jake had a glass jaw was valuable information to any smaller boy – which was just about everyone.

Andy and Steven came and stood over theirfriend.

“You scored!” Andy stated as he folded his arms and grinned.

Jimmy groaned.

“C’mon mate, up you get,” soothed Steven as he took his hands out of his pockets and hooked them under Jimmy’s arms.

Jimmy whimpered but managed to get to his feet. Between them Andy and Steven supported Jimmy on their shoulders and carried him back towards the school just as the bell began to ring.

Behind them Brain crept up towards the fallen Jake and looked down at him. Jake was out cold and seemed to be sleeping peacefully, oblivious to the giggling people pulling their bags out from under him.

With a diminishing tide of noise, Jimmy, Andy and Steven, followed by Brian all made their way back into school, while a curious teacher frowned at the one stupid boy who’d decided to lie down in the playground for a nap.